We took six days to drive up the California coast. Most of them were allotted beach time, saved up over a long winter to be cashed in during June. Warm sand, hot sun, salty tan skin, and water full of tiny creatures. The beach only blocks from our cousin’s apartment was perfectly, wonderfully deserted… because the weather looked like this. For three straight days. And so I learned of June gloom in California.

There was other fun to be had. Raw fish pulled from the sea right outside restaurant windows, family games of Trivial Pursuit over snacks on the balcony, and a giant Forever 21 kept us occupied in Oxnard. Farmers selling strawberries straight from their roadside fields offered absolutely the freshest, most delicious and beautiful fruit my tongue has ever tasted. I haven’t enjoyed a strawberry since.

Although the fog obscured most of our coastal view, on a sunny day we took the 17-mile drive on HWY 1 past Pebble Beach, seals, and big dark rocks.

We could have spent days at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

And we met Benji. Okay, we also met his family. The Simms, parents of a college friend, welcomed us into their home sight-unseen. They let us play with their adorable dog, and even gave us a tour of their vast pantries (so many we wished we were staying more than one night). Another set of new friends to make the trip worth taking!

The last leg of our journey through California was as long as it was beautiful. Stopping for directions at a conservation center, we spotted a 10-year gypsy, as told by his signature in the guest book just before ours. He rode a bike with a buggy and had two dogs, one of which jumped into the buggy when commanded, “Load up!” I thought about our little adventure and wondered what his must be like.

Although I had planned to be 5 feet deep in blue salty water, I spent more time in California inside of enormous trees. It wasn’t exactly the way I had in mind, but I did feel wonderfully insignificant.

From its icy January beginnings, the beach was the motivation for this trip. I spent hours brooding over all the sunshine and warm air I was missing during the Iowa winter, dressed in black and painting with blood and tears on a canvas in homage to the sea, listening to music about the ocean and Google image searching serene destinations. Just kidding. Kind of.

Anyway, overall, I spent about five nonconsecutive minutes with my feet in chilly water. Maybe, MAYBE two hours in my swim suit, and most of those with goose bumps. I looked at the ocean a lot, but it definitely wasn’t the most impactful part of the trip. It turned out that once we were enjoying the road, there was no longer a destination in mind.

In May, I quit my job. I had no prospects—just the solid knowledge that I couldn’t stay where I was. I couldn’t be still. I had to move, move on, drive away. Emily agreed to join me on a crazy journey and the deal was done. We packed the car and followed the call of the wild west.

Armed with a GPS and wheels safely beyond the Continental Divide, Emily and I traipsed our way through Colorado and Utah to Cottonwood, Arizona. We caught our breath beside Lake Dillon after the frightening descent from the divide. We nearly suited up for a dip in Glenwood Springs, only to find that the springs looked just like swimming pools full of splashing summer kids. What? I thought these were going to be rocky holes in the ground…

On the advice of new Colorado friends, we left the main highway for a deserted road that took us along the Colorado River to Moab. I always thought Georgia O’Keefe was a little eager in her fondness of sand, rocks, and all things desert, but now I understand why. You win, Georgia.

Last summer my friends Ben and Kami bravely left Iowa for Arizona. They moved to Tucson, hunted for jobs and searched for a patch of grass amidst the red dirt for their bewildered dachshund. Ben was soon invited to stay with Don Reitz at his ranch and studio. Reitz is one of the most significant ceramic artists of the century, known best for his salt-firing techniques. The opportunity couldn’t have been better for Ben, who earned his BFA from the UI in ceramics.

Though Ben and Don were traveling to yet another show or conference, Kami generously offered us a tour of the Reitz ranch: studio, gallery, kilns, animals and the Verde River. I have zero talent in making three dimensional things, and am even worse at painting on them, so I was awed at the immense, beautifully decorated objects in Don’s gallery—on top of getting so close to the process of this expert.

I didn’t take any photos in the studio or gallery, but here’s a pretty representative picture of Kami and I conquering wilderness.

Okay, maybe we didn’t actually conquer anything wild. But I’m pretty proud (and envious?) of this lady for picking up her life and moving it to a brand new place. She’s done a commendable job of finding her way.

I couldn’t write about Arizona without mentioning my first tattoo. It lasted 10 days and was made completely of glitter.

Emily and I explored Cottonwood on our first day there. We blinked as we stepped out of the blinding Arizona sun into the sparkling Glitter Gallery at Art Institute Glitter, producer of over 400 colors and 11 types of glitter distributed all over the world. Glitter Guy (name unknown, but Emily maintains he was a Steve) welcomed us to the store. He insisted we dip our entire hands into a conch shell filled with tiny tiny flecks of gold glitter, finer than white sand. He proceeded to tattoo us both, first filling a stencil in with body glue and then using a tiny brush to cover the glue with our choice of glitter.

Steve told us he had a master’s in math, but decided to work in the family glitter biz. Trained in numbers, he now sells glitter as make-up, to crafters, and to travelling girls who want it glued to their skin. Are you telling me that someone with a math degree gets paid to use a paint brush, while I sit at a computer?!

Fine. I’m just glad to meet another person who chose to do what made them happy instead of what made them money. (Did I mention that Kris from Colorado is a freelance graphic designer? Her parents thought she was crazy when she decided to go out on her own, but she loves it.)

When Steve offered to give us a ‘tour of the sunshine,’ we shared a pointed glance as he dragged us out onto the street. How wrong we were again to be cynical! No wonder he chose glitter over numbers.

About the ArtistMolly Moser currently resides in Des Moines, Iowa, where she finds lots to love in the people, the cultural events, bike trails, water, and farmer's markets. She continues to study art and to paint, draw, and take photos. Molly hopes to move west to attend graduate school.

Molly’s paintings explore the relationships, emotions and interactions that occur between families, friends and partners, humans and nature. She creates interior spaces to tell these stories through the personal objects they contain.